


Where I belong

by CaptainAmericaontheTardis



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Crucifixion, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmericaontheTardis/pseuds/CaptainAmericaontheTardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnar leads his men blindly in a battle only to have to face his worse fear afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I belong

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is not how the Crucifixion scene went in the series but this is how my best friend wanted the crucifixion scene to end and so it shall be :)

Ragnar and his band of Vikings rode pointedly through the cold, harsh landscape, their horses breathing heavily as their hooves shook the ground. Ragnar, who led the men never took his eyes away from his path, his features white and angry, as he clenched his fists and tightened his jaw with every step. Flanking him closer than the others, Floki rode, more panicked than angry and his eyes jumped quickly from his path to his raging friend just ahead of him. The rest of the Vikings strayed from side to side, none of them knowing exactly what was wrong, only that whomever they were coming after were about to die, judging by the look on Ragnar’s face. 

They rode over yet another hill, the sounds thunderous and echoing through the cold atmosphere. Floki became more and more agitated as they progressed as he glanced ahead nervously and then back to Ragnar’s unmoving form, where ever they were going Floki knew what was going to happen, or at least stressed over what they might find. Over one more hill and the men could see the far away figures of men in the distance, Ragnar kicked his horse and rode even faster, Floki followed in suit, now giving a warning look over his shoulder to the lagging men. 

They advanced unnaturally fast on the large group of men, who, the men could see now, were all wearing white clothes, they were small and now beginning to sense the impending doom that was racing toward them. They came closer the gaggle of men reacted with terrified yells, now running in several different directions in chaos. The Vikings raised their blunt and powerful weapons as they arrived, coming towards the running priests. Floki demeanor become instantly excited as he watched the men run, unsure of who to take out first. He grinned deviously as he raised his weapon, the men behind him glowed wickedly as they did not know their purpose but were pleased with the opportunity for gratuitous violence. Ragnar, on the other hand, never raised his weapon and never took his piercing eyes off one particular man, the bald one, with the gold chest clutching a book, the Christian’s book. 

Floki watched Ragnar at first but then focused on their attack as the wave of Vikings over came the group of men. Their horses never stopped as the clan wiped out two to three men with every strike, an assault that was as fluid and quick as it was violent and gruesome. Ragnar looked nowhere but the leader as he charged toward him at full speed, whipping out his sword only a second before he shoved it through the bald man’s skull, spilling blood all over his white tunic and Christian bible. 

A few moments later and the Viking stood among the dead victims, not even out of breath, grinning stupidly and glancing over their carnage. Ragnar, however, glanced over the landscape angrily before yelling wordlessly and charging forward again, Floki following closely behind him, signaling pointedly to the rest of the men to follow. They raged forward blindly, apparently expecting another easy fight only to realize that they were headed towards a large cross, towering on the next hill. 

Ragnar barreled forward to the looming object, jumping off his horse in mid run, slowly stumbling forward in shock. Floki copied his friend, although he wasn’t looking at the man hanging limply on the cross, we was glancing worriedly to his gaping leader. The men stopped their animals and hopped off, clearly confused, the group moved forward only to jump backwards as Floki, who was standing next to Ragnar, hissed violently and held up a hand to strike the air. 

The men obeyed and then looked up collectively to the man hanging on the criminal’s cross, a wave of recognition washed over them as they looked through the blood and hair at their leader’s “Slave”. Athelstan, who had been deathly still, shuddered in pain, causing more blood to drip down his body to the ground. Ragnar reacted immediately, rushing forward in a moment of hope, he clinged the wood and began to pull downwards. Floki assisted him as the men watched, still very confused and between the two Vikings, the cross was pulled from the earth. They moved with the large item to pull it gently down, Athelstan screamed in agony as his body shifted with the wood and his arms cracked as the weight of his body was lifted away. He continued to scream as Floki and Ragnar set the cross on the ground, his voice losing it’s power with every shuddering yelp. 

Ragnar, without any tools, pulled the bolts out of Athelstan’s palms and threw them violently behind him causing his men to dodge the bloodied piece of iron, Floki looked at them disappointedly. Athelstan whimpered as Ragnar pulled his arms out of their splayed position and to his slashed chest. Ragnar growled menacingly only to pull the wounded man away from the cross and into his arms, his anger fading into something more akin to fear as his eyes went from flashing to dull when he looked down at Athelstan’s beaten and fading form. 

Floki kneeled next to the men silently, glancing nervously from Ragnar to Athelstan to the Sky and Back to Ragnar. He did not disturb the scene nor did he pay any attention to the men mumbling uncomfortably behind them. Ragnar never looked away from the monk, he slid his thumb lightly over the injured man’s cracked lips, saying only in a cracked voice, 

“Water.”

Floki, the only one really listening furrowed his eyes brows, repeating the word “Water” again and again in different tones, as if trying to decipher the word before bolting into action, jumping up and screaming at the mesmerized men, 

“Water! You imbeciles! Spare water!”

The men began to fumble awkwardly to their horses until Floki rushed them along, yelling onbscenities, sometimes pertaining to the need and sometimes pertaining to their stupid bloodlines. 

The chaos seemed far away as Ragnar held Athelstan, hand’s shaking and face white as he attempted to pull some of the blood crusted hair away from the other man’s dull grey face. 

“You will be fine. You will survive this.”

He whispered more to himself than to Athelstan, the smaller man whimpered in response, his eyes unfocused and dark as they darted to the different features on Ragnar’s terror stricken face. He barely noticed as Floki kneeled nervously next to him, proudly holding a small tin cup of water. He nudged Ragnar lightly and the leader took the water, nodding in response but never taking his eyes away from Athelstan. Floki twitched uneasily next to them until Ragnar spoke with a slightly steadier voice, 

“Camp.”

Floki sprung into action, shouting commands at the loafing audience, however the voices faded as Ragnar continued to hold Athelstan. He cringed as he inspected the holes within the smaller man’s hands and the whip slashes that covered his body. Athelstan mumbled weakly after a dribbling sip of water had soothed his throat and lips, and Ragnar’s eyes flicked to his face. He shook the smaller man gently before whispering urgently near Athelstan’s ear, 

“Athelstan! Are you here with me?”

There was no answer so Ragnar repeated the words lightly, his blue eye’s flashing as every word escaped his mouth. He could hear his men building camp around him but he never took his eyes off Athelstan’s trembling mouth. A croaked and forced moan left the wounded man’s tongue and he spoke in a crackled and scratched voice, 

“Yes--”

His body gave a violent shake and he whimpered before continuing lightly, looking up at Ragnar in a moment of clarity. 

“Yes, ’m right where I belong---”

Ragnar chuckled darkly

“Yes, yes you are..”

Athelstan flashed a weak smile through bloodstained teeth before his eyes lost their focus and rolled to the back of his head as he lost consciousness. Ragnar pulled him to his chest just as Floki returned with a makeshift cot, ready to take Athelstan to some shelter. 

Weeks and many fevers later Ragnar returned from a fight to a low tent, smiling as he saw Athelstan struggling to sit up. He was pale, thin and still very quickly but he was alive and apparently ready to get up. Ragnar sat next to him, pushing him easily down with one hand, glancing over the scars that now riddled his body. 

“No. You have to rest.”

Athelstan fell back but watched Ragnar with a raised and skeptical eyebrow, 

“I have been resting long enough.”

His voice was strong again, filled with the same power that Ragnar was used to, however the Viking laughed, a sound that could fill any space instantly.

“Your feverishly delirious rants would suggest otherwise.”

Athelstan glared up at the Viking but stayed put, laying back on his cot grudgingly

“I do not want to be a burden.”

Ragnar responded matter-of-factly, 

“Then stay put! You are less of a burden when I am not concerning over your whereabouts!”

Athelstan made a face akin to pouting and Ragnar grinned down at the smaller man, before leaning over and placing a soft yet lingering kiss to Athelstan’s forehead. The monk closed his eyes and returned the kiss a moment later before Ragnar swept out of the shelter.


End file.
